In Dreams
by AThousandSandsofTime
Summary: Hermione and Severus dream of one another, convinced that they cannot have what they encounter in their sleep.
1. Hermione

Disclaimer: The Potterverse is not mine. JKR wins that claim.

In Dreams 

In my dreams, he's here beside me, occupying the other side of my bed, warming the cool sheets I never sleep on. I keep to one side of the bed you know, I don't roll over or any of that. Ginny jokes that I'm waiting for someone to take up that space. I laugh it off, never telling her that she's right. I am waiting for someone. I have been since my seventh year as a student at Hogwarts. I dream that his black hair is laying softly on the pillow next to me, creating a sable curtain, hiding his beautiful face from me. To me, he's beautiful, despite what my friends think.

In my dreams, he is softly caressing every inch of me, bringing me slowly awake. He smiles as my eyes open, and kisses my lips softly. He tightens his hold on me, creating friction that sends a shiver through me, ending between my legs. He knows what I want simply by looking into my eyes, and he smiles again. He kisses my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, my nose, my lips, my chin.

He suckles my neck, nibbling and kissing, leaving marks. He loves to mark me, so everyone knows that I'm taken, that I'm his. He drops his head to my chest, leaving a trail of fiery heat wherever he touches. He gently kisses my breasts before taking one in his mouth. All the while his hands are driving me mad, running up and down my sides, across my torso, down my legs, carefully avoiding the place I desperately want them to be. He kisses down my belly, the ecstasy making me wild with desire.

His hands finally brush the mound at the apex of my thighs, making me moan. He looks up at my moan smiling, his black eyes burning with a wildfire of passion. I could drown in those eyes. He knows what I want him to do, but he makes me ask.

'_Please' I moan._

'_Please what, love?' His voice is a low, husky rumble._

'_Severus…' his name sounds off of my tongue, a hiss_

'_Hmmm?'_

'_Make me yours. Take me!' this last request ends in a whimper, as his finger gently enters me, rubbing me inside. _

' _Like this? Tell me love I need to hear it,' He purrs. He knows it isn't enough, but he makes me say it. _

' _More…' He's driving me crazy, and knows it. _

' _Gladly.' He adds a second finger to my center, his thumb finding my clit. He begins to rub, making slow circles. My hips rise and fall, matching his teasing rhythm. His other hand holds me down as my orgasm washes over me, his obsidian eyes gazing into mine. I smile, and he kisses me once more, taking my cries into himself…_

I always wake up then, my breath in short harsh gasps as I try to make sense of my emotions. On really bad nights, when my heart feels like it's ready to burst, sobs come forth from the chaos of my soul, and sleep is gone, as I lay in tears, waiting for the sky to lighten with the first warnings of dawn, and another day of seeing him at meals, in the corridors, and at the blasted staff meetings Albus holds. Those are the worst, I think. Somehow, he always winds up next to me. The close proximity nearly kills me, because I know that it's the closest I'll ever get to him.

I recall, with stunning clarity, the day my love emerged full force. The Final Battle, as it is now called, was only the beginning for me. Harry was making his way through the dueling Death Eaters and Order members, seeking out his destiny. I was beside him, along with Ron, screaming curses and hexes as soon as they came to mind. I took notice of the field, and I saw Snape doing battle with Lucius Malfoy. The two men were fighting viciously, and I saw a jet of green light emerge from Snape's wand. Malfoy crumpled to the ground, his robes pooling around him in the churned earth. Looking upon Snape, I saw an intense look of satisfaction on his face. He looked like a god then, his tall frame towering triumphantly over the body of the man he so loathed. The battle raged on, and I lost sight of him. Harry found his quarry, and before long, made an end of him. The battle was won.

I wandered through the battleground in a daze collapsing into the first pair of arms that I encountered. Snape's. I began to sob, uncontrollably, letting the tears flow for everything that had ever happened at the hands of Voldemort. Harry's loss, the loss of my parents, everything came crashing down upon me. Snape held me as I cried, his hands soothing me, gently rubbing my back. My grief spent for the moment, I pulled away slightly, and looked into his dark eyes, meeting the expressions dancing within their depths. Grief, compassion, and happiness all mingled together within them, and it was in that moment that I knew I was lost. Question joined the other emotions within his eyes, and I knew I couldn't stay in his arms much longer.

I dislodged myself from his embrace, thanked him, and went to Harry and Ron, who wasted no time in engulfing me in an embrace. Looking up, I saw Snape going to the castle, and I wished I could join him. I didn't go to the celebrations that night. I sat alone in my chambers, trying desperately to sort what I was feeling in my heart. I knew it was love, pure and simple.

He's it for me, the same way Harry is it for Ginny, the same way Ron is it for Lavender. I envy them so much. They had the courage to pursue their loves, in a way I'll never have. A Gryffindor coward, who'd have thought? But it means too much of me to throw away on impulse. He'll forever remain the beautiful illusion in my head, the sensual specter of my dreams, slowly driving me insane. There is no one else for me. I wish he knew how I felt.


	2. Severus

Disclaimer: The Potterverse is not mine. JKR wins that claim.

In Dreams 

She is an angel. My angel, specifically, when I dream. She's known me at my best, and my worst, but still loves me, in my dreams. She makes sure I don't drink myself in to a stupor, she holds me when I'm upset, she soothes my feathers, so to speak, when I'm in a temper. She saves me from myself, in every way. If only she were truly mine. I've never told anyone any of this, though I think Albus knows. I'm sure that he ensures that she sits next to me at meals, and during the interminable hours spent at staff meetings. She's so close then. I can smell her hair.

She's been beautiful to me since her seventh year as a student. I can still remember the day I put my heart in her graceful hands. The final battle, the last confrontation between Voldemort and the Order was raging on the grounds of Hogwarts. I can still see her clearly, her hair falling out of its knot on her head, tendrils working her way around her face. She was flanking Potter, protecting him as he made his way to Voldemort. She was letting curses fly in every direction, seldom missing her mark. Her face was like stone, as beads of sweat made their way down her face. She looked like a goddess to me, defending her best friend and the world she had become a part of.

She was absolutely wild, that day, and after the battle was won, she fell into the arms of the first person she found. Me. She wept, sob racking her slim frame. I could feel every one of them. All I could do was hold her, rubbing her back as she cried for her friend, who emerged victorious, against all odds, for her parents, victims to the cruelty of Voldemort, and for herself, the girl forced into womanhood overnight. She looked into my eyes, tears making paths down her dirt stained face, and she smiled.

She stood up then, thanked me for my kindness, and made her way over to Potter and Weasley, who caught her up in a fierce embrace. I watched this exchange, letting my newfound feelings wash over me, before futility sunk in, and I made my way back to my solitary chambers. I didn't take part in the celebrations that ensued that night. I was trying to make sense of the emotions coursing through me. The night had fallen, and I wearily made my way to my bedchamber.

It's only at night, slumbering in my bed, that I allow my mind to wander. How she would feel beneath me as we made love, her voice moaning my name. Or how much lighter my life would be if she were waiting in my chambers every evening after classes, sitting on our couch, a book in her hands, her shapely legs tucked beneath her, her lovely brow furrowed as she made sense of what she was reading. I could sit next to her, and she'd lean up against me, a sigh escaping from her lips. I could drop a kiss on her forehead, and take her by the hand to our bedroom, shedding our clothes as we went.

I could kiss her then, as her breasts push up against me, taut nipples rubbing against my chest. Picking her up I'd lead her to the bed, and softly lay her down, her wild curls spilling across the pillows of our bed, a gentle smile on her lips. Her smile would make my day perfect. I lower myself onto the mattress beside her, gently caressing her abdomen. Time means nothing in my dreams, and we could spend forever in my fantasy, languidly stroking one another, taking our time before consummating our mutual desire.

I enter her, and our bodies come together in a tangle of limbs, her hands dragging trails across my back. I'll have scratches tomorrow morning, but I love that she marks me as hers. We move together as one before the slow pumping of our bodies ceases to be enough to satisfy us. My thrusts become wild, her hips arching to meet me, pushing me further within her warm center. My lips claim hers in a bruising kiss, as her climax hits her, her body clenching around me, as if to keep me there forever.

Her eyes go wild, and then vague as her orgasm claims her completely. Watching her sends me over the edge, into the depths of oblivion, and I spill myself within her welcoming depths, yelling her name to the walls of our bedchamber. I kiss her forehead as we both come down form the heights of our passion. I leave her body, and pull her against me, fitting her womanly curves against my body, as she kisses me once more, and we succumb to the realm of Morpheus.

I hardly sleep most nights that I dream this. I merely slumber enough to have this dream, before I rip myself from sleep. I could take a potion, I suppose to rid myself of these dreams, but at the present time, they are the only things that keep me going. I couldn't bear to medicate myself into a blank sleep. These dreams have become my drug, and I would go mad without them. I think I'm going mad anyway, this obsession I'm having with her, but what a way to go.

I'm no fool. I know that my dreams will never come true, that I am committed to endless nights of this beautiful torture. I am twenty years her senior. The age difference is negligible in the wizarding world, but I use it as a shield over my heart. I also know that to her, I'm nothing more than her former Potions Professor, who made seven years of her life hell, plaguing her and her friends.

She smiles at me when we pass in the corridors, when we sit down for meals, and when we're pushed together during staff meetings, but I know that the smiles are merely her way of being friendly, from one colleague to another. She'd stop smiling altogether if she knew how they affected me, and I couldn't bear that. She'll never see me in that light. I'm lucky if she thinks well of me at all. My unknowing angel, how I love you.


End file.
